Author's note: Hey, beautiful readers, followers, friends, fellow shippers, and people who clicked this link by mistake. XD Sorry, I know it's been a while and I still have a shitload of multi-chapter fics to update, but things have been so crazy lately. (And it really sucks because I wasn't able to contribute to Quinntana Week. T.T) I haven't got the time (and inspiration) to write, so.
I'll be updating them soon, though. I promise. :D You can help me decide which fic to work on first, too (though I already have a good headstart for "Fate").
Read. Comment. Most importantly, enjoy. :)
Changes (Chapter 1 of 3)
Your—erm—"relationship" with Quinn blooms through a very cliché and practical way of communication and, nowadays, courting—texts and phone calls. There were a couple of New York visits here and a handful of New Haven visits there; but Quinn's a very dedicated student while you're having a difficult time balancing your time between working your current job, searching for a better one, and having fun at the same time, so cellphones and Skype will have to do.
After your two-but-really-more-like-six-time thing, it felt awkward at first, especially the first time you've talked after the "experiment".
(At that time, you dialed her number since you've been thinking about calling her for quite a long time without planning what to say and just hoping for the best. You stupidly ended up saying, "Coach is out of McKinley," as an answer to her hello. Thankfully, she didn't tease you for sounding so weird and nervous and simply chuckles before saying, "I heard. You're not thinking about replacing her, are you?")
However, as time passed and as the number of conversations you've shared continued to rise, talking with each other has become a part of both of your routines. (Still, you both avoided talking about whatever happened last Valentine's Day, and that's probably what's making things casual and okay.)
It felt normal, at least to you, until Rachel commented unknowingly about it.
"So what's up with you?" Rachel simply says while you three, plus Adam, are having dinner.
You glance upwards for a moment to look at the girl in the eye before dropping your gaze back at your plate. "What do you mean what's up with me?"
"You seem… happy these past few weeks."
Her tone makes you drop your fork and raise an eyebrow at her. For a second, she looks kind of terrified, then she turns to Kurt as if she's asking for his help.
"What she meant is," Kurt starts, "you've been… different."
"Different," you echo.
"Uh, you know. You've been smiling more frequently and you're not that terrifyingly cranky in the morning, and it's like you're not acting like you anymore," Kurt says in one breath.
"You don't even call me Hobbit anymore," Rachel adds. "So… What's up with you?"
You stay silent, recognizing that they're right, and that there can only be one answer to Rachel's question.
Quinn.
She's been the reason why you've always been in a good mood. Like, every single day.
For some reason, that thought made you feel uneasy, but you tried not to think about it. That's because you're sure that it's nothing and that Quinn probably thinks the same.
But she proves you otherwise.
"This is fun," Quinn says in the middle of one of your late-night calls.
You already know what she's talking about without having to ask her.
You think, "So, this really is something?" But you only smile and tell her, "Yeah. It is."
Just a few days after that, the inevitable happened. (Of course, eventually, Brittany would have to pop out of your conversations.)
"Have you been talking to her?" Quinn asks out of the blue.
"Brittany?" Even if you already know whom Quinn was referring to (because, duh, who else would "her" be?), you still say that, just to let Quinn know that it's not a taboo word.
"Yeah," Quinn says slowly.
"We've been exchanging a few texts," you say. "I mean, I've been really busy, as you know, and she's been working hard not to flunk senior year the second time, so that's the best we could do."
"That's good," Quinn states, "right?"
"Q, I'm okay. Really." You say that with conviction because you do know that you already are.
That doesn't mean that you're not in love with Brittany any longer, though. First loves are forever, right? Still, you've been coping really well, and you've gradually accepted that she's just not yours anymore, and that thought doesn't feel that painful as it felt then.
"Do you think she really loved me?" You blurt out.
After a beat, you hear Quinn scoff. "What kind of question is that?"
"It's just… she did get over it so easily," you try to reason out.
"Says the one who broke up with her," Quinn counters.
"But I wasn't the one who had already seen someone else only a little more than a month later." You sigh. "You know I would've waited for her if she didn't date Sam."
After you used his real first name rather than Trouty Mouth, you realize how much you've changed. You realize that you don't sound like Santana—the old, Lima-Heights-Adjacent-represent Santana—anymore.
"That doesn't prove anything," she answers. "Maybe she just learned something you haven't realized yet."
"Oh yeah?" You raise an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Like," Quinn exhales loudly and waits a second before continuing. "Like, just because it's real love, doesn't mean it's meant to be."
Your eyebrows furrow as you ponder on what Quinn said. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know, love isn't always right. Even if it's very strong, it can be very wrong at the same time. Or maybe there's just another love that's better than that, like that love is just not it yet, even if it doesn't seem like it."
You blink. "You're saying…?"
"Santana, sometimes love just isn't meant to last."
Oh.
You stare at the ceiling, sharing a long silence with Quinn. You would've thought she already hung up or got disconnected, but you can still hear the soft whirring of a fan from the other end.
"Quinn?" You utter, finally breaking the silence.
"Hm?"
You wanted to say something like "are you still there?" or maybe goodbye or good night, but you end up saying…
"Would you have loved me?" You mentally slap yourself, but you find yourself continuing, anyway. "If you were her, would you have loved me?"
Your heart races as you wait for her response, and beats even faster when you hear it.
"Question is, what's not to love?"
If someone had told you three years ago that Brittany wasn't your soulmate, you probably would have pulled the poor guy's tongue just so he could never speak again.
If someone had told you you'd be the one to break it off with her, you probably would have narrowed your eyes as a way of saying, "Do you even know what you're fucking talking about?"
And if someone had told you that Quinn freakin' Fabray would be the reason why you'd get over her, you would have given that someone fifty bucks for telling the best joke you've ever heard.
Then, three years later, when you're a minute away from sleep, you'd suddenly sit up and jolt awake because of a surprising realization—damn, that bitch was right!
Now, here you are, out in a field somewhere in Yale, lying on the grass and staring at the sky, just because Quinn's so… Quinn. And though you'd never admit it, you actually love it too, even spending time with her in the library. (You'd never tell Quinn that. In fact, you say quite the opposite, things like, "Fabray, are you seriously telling me that I've spent hours torturing my butt on a train ride just so you could take me to a damn library?") Times like these with Quinn are the only ones when you actually feel peaceful, and you can't hate that feeling.
In a way, it kind of forces you to think about things, even things that you hate thinking about.
Like how you've started thinking about Brittany less and less over the past few weeks. And how you've started thinking about Quinn more and more at the same time. And how these two things could be connected or maybe just coincided.
And how you really love spending time with Quinn, like actually being with her and not just hearing her voice, that sometimes you think you can't get enough of her.
And how this—your friendship or whatever this is—shouldn't have worked, not in any way, just from the mere fact that she's Quinn and you're Santana. But it doesn't feel fucked up at all.
In fact, it actually feels right.
You feel so happy, elated, and in love with how Quinn looks so damn beautiful under the moonlight. And, being Santana, of course you let your strong feelings take over your senses, so without realizing you're doing it, you take Quinn's hand in yours.
"I love you."
Well, fuck.
Quinn's head turns so quickly to face you that you think you hear her neck snap. "What?"
Now, she's giving you a chance to take those three damn words back, act naturally, and save your ass and, well, whatever this is.
But, being Santana fucking Lopez, you feel brave, so you don't take it.
"I love you," you repeat, this time looking straight into her hazel eyes.
There are only two one-syllable words that ever broke your heart. The first one you've heard through the phone—Bram. And the second…
"Oh," you hear Quinn murmur. You stay frozen as you wait for the following words of her sentence, which, after a long silence, never came.
You close your eyes, praying that Quinn would say something—anything—besides that, on your way back to her dorm, or before you hop on the train next day, or even a day, a week, a month after that.
But she doesn't.
A/N: That was short, wasn't it? XD I'll update soon, though. Love you. :D